


One Evening in Curacao

by Erimthar



Category: Glee
Genre: Bikinis, F/F, First Anniversary, Post-Series, Sex Talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 22:04:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12375042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erimthar/pseuds/Erimthar
Summary: The only thing better than a first anniversary in Curacao is the night that comes after.





	One Evening in Curacao

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little vignette that appeared almost fully formed... a couple years late, maybe, but they are kind of an adorable couple so here it is.

 

As they walked in through the doorway of their beach cabana, Santana’s sarong _just happened_ to get caught in Brittany’s fingers, and ended up on the hardwood floor. That left San in nothing but her candy-apple red string bikini. She turned around to face her wife, hands on her hips in mock reproach.

“You did that on purpose,” she accused.

“I did,” Brittany admitted. “Just out of mathematical curiosity. While we were laying on the beach, I was trying to calculate the surface area of your swimsuit. But it was tough with you laying on the blanket. It’s easier if you’re standing.”

Santana widened her stance and held out her arms in imitation of that guy in the Leonardo da Vinci drawing. “Well, Brainiac? What’s the verdict?”

Brit considered. “Zero point eight square feet,” she said. “Zero point nine, tops. And in parentheses, how do you get such an amazing tan?”

“By being Latina. I can get a tan from my phone light.”

“And I can get a sunburn from the moon.” Brittany looked down mournfully at her creamy white body.

“On the other hand,” San said, “Do you have any idea how hot you look, all shiny and glisteny with that SPF 50 slathered all over you?”

“Noooo. How hot do I look?”

“Let me tell you a secret.” San leaned in close to whisper in Brittany’s ear. “I use your suntan lotion as lube when I stroke off.”

Brittany went wide-eyed. “Get out.”

“It’s true. The smell of coconut practically makes me jizz in my pants now. You did that to me, Brittany Pierce-Lopez.”

“I was wondering why I was on like my third bottle of suntan lotion this summer, and it’s only June.”

“The more you know. And by the way, Brit... your lovely wife’s deep caramel tan just happens to be her first anniversary present to you.”

“Really? I love it!” Brittany said. “And hey, I even got to unwrap it.”

“You’re the breadwinner in the family... so far... and I knew I could never top a week’s vacation in Curacao...”

“I’m sorry, by the way,” Brit said. “I thought they would speak Spanish in Curacao. Who the heck ever heard of speaking _Dutch_ in the tropics? Now neither one of us speaks the language. At least in the Bahamas last year they spoke English.”

“Don’t apologize for this dreamy vacation, or by all that’s holy I will smack you,” Santana said lovingly. “And you might have noticed that almost everyone here _does_ speak English, and most of them speak Spanish too.”

“They do? Well... they’re not supposed to, according to the sidebar in Wikipedia. Which I should have checked before I made the reservations.”

Santana rolled her eyes. “ _Moving on._ Now, you will notice that your present – my tan – is still attached to my body. In order to collect it, you will have to lick it off.”

Brittany blinked. “I... I’m pretty sure that’s impossible.”

“That, _mi dulce amante_ , is a defeatist attitude. I want you to try.” San gave her most evil grin, and licked her lips. “I want you to try your _hardest_.”

“Well, okay. But I won’t be responsible for the results.”

“ _Ooooooh_ yes you will. Remember our wedding night, one year ago exactly, when I asked you to try to get me pregnant? And you said it was impossible, and I told you to try anyway? And you did. And boy, were you ever responsible for the results.”

“You didn’t get pregnant, though.”

“Minor detail. It was the effort that counted.”

Brittany looked down at herself. “I would invite you to lick off my suntan lotion, but I don’t think it tastes as good as it smells.” She ran her index finger up her thigh, then popped it in her mouth, and made a face. “Nope. Somebody should invent flavored suntan lotion.”

“See, that’s a billion dollar idea,” San said. “But getting you off... I mean, getting _it_ off... just requires a slightly different approach. A lathery bar of soap, these ten fingers of mine, and an hour or so in the shower.”

“I don’t think it would take that long,” Brittany observed.

“You’re missing the point. _Yes, it would_.”

“And... I don’t think there’s enough hot water.”

“So who needs hot water? You know what the benefits of a nice cold shower are? Two nice hard pink Brittany nipples.”

Brittany shivered with anticipation. “You thought everything out, didn’t you?”

“Yep. Last night, while you were getting your mani-pedi. I’m sorry you had so little suntan lotion left this morning, by the way. Now... please take off that robe and step out of the bikini. I want to see my hot-ass wife butt-ass naked. _Ahora, por favor_.”

“Who are you calling a whore?” Brittany said with a grin as she slid her bikini bottoms down her glistening legs.

“Myself, for sure,” Santana said, trying to contain her drool as she stripped off her own swimwear. “ _Eres bella_.”

“Back atcha. Let’s go get nice and clean...”

“...And nice and dirty. Because the sooner we do, the sooner we can climb in that bed and mix a nice Brittana Cocktail.”

“No cock...” Brit said, holding out her pinky.

“...But plenty of tail,” San responded, hooking her own pinky around it.

 


End file.
